The body
carries its own memory
of time and place
and when it’s displaced,
it roars like a hunter
or hibernates
like a bear

The body
must know other
truths
like the indentation
on the side of my ribs
and how
your fingertips
fit between them
like you threw me
on a wheel
or maybe
they were made
together
and by sheer
will
like a brave dog
they returned home

The body
knows its own
appetites -
we are hungry
before we think
of what
to cook
for which
we must first plan
an excursion to
procure
the ingredients for said feast

The body
is also a fortune teller
everyone has foretold
the future
in moments of most
intense physical
desire
dictated by its
own time zone
when the body
turns itself
inside out

A similar passion
compels me now
the clock of my
gut
feels you
like a distant
time zone
but knows,
yes, just knows,
that both hands
will right
itself
again

MORE POEMS